


Lewd and Lascivious: Rope Burns

by LEDbiantastic



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 20:38:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6625351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LEDbiantastic/pseuds/LEDbiantastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a short story about a little sexual experimentation between Willow and Tara. There's a slight communication issue at first that gets resolved, but it could be interpreted as non-con. But, yeah, contains bondage and lesbian sex. Enjoy!</p>
<p>This is another piece I'm cross-posting from ff.net. The original title was I Blame Jessi, which refers to the friend who planted the idea for this story in my head. But a lot of readers found the title confusing due to the character Jesse from the first two episodes of Buffy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lewd and Lascivious: Rope Burns

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This piece was inspired by a game of Apples to Apples. If you don’t know the game, how it works is that there are green cards that have an adjective on them, and everyone has a hand of seven red cards, which are nouns. A green card is put down, and everyone puts down the red card they think works best in a literal, ironic, humorous, or random way. One person doesn’t put out a red card because they’re judging, and they choose whose red card wins.  
> Anyway, the inspirational combination was: the adjective on the green card was “Lewd and Lascivious”. The winning red card was “rope burns”. That card was played by my friend Jessi, hence the title “I Blame Jessi.” As a result, I spent the entire next day, which happened to be a band competition, thinking about bondage. Talk about inappropriate thoughts.  
> In my mind, this story takes place during the summer after season 5. (Any earlier than that and this would be way out of character.) (In my humble opinion.) That summer is a very convenient time for Willow and Tara-y goodness because they’re living together with a very large bed. Actually, I was just looking at pictures from the beginning of Seeing Red. That bed doesn’t have posts that a person could be tied to… It’s also kind of small for two people to sleep in it every night… Was that really Joyce’s bed? Anyway, we’re going to pretend that they have a bed with bedposts, okay?

“Tara?” I hear Willow’s voice out of the darkness behind my head. We’re lying in our bed, both turned the same direction. One of her arms is wrapped around my belly and I can feel the warmth of her body pressed against my back. I don’t answer her query, hoping that she’ll think I’m asleep.

“Tara?” I wait again. I’m way too tired tonight for any “bed magic.”

“I know you’re awake,” she says.

_Witches_ , I sigh internally.

“It’s not magic, silly; it’s psychology. Your heart rate and breathing are irregular.”

_Which is worse: the fact that she’s a Wiccan or the fact that she took psych 101?_ I think dryly.

“Sweetie?” She tries again.

“Nnnn” I groan. Whatever this is, I’m not making it easy.

“There’s this spell I’ve been wanting to try with you…” My eyes open at the word “spell.” Luckily, she can’t see them, and I hope my body didn’t react and clue her in on my weakening resolve.

“But if you’re too tired…” I can hear the grin in her voice. She knows I can’t resist a little witchcraft. She’s got my interest, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to show it.

“I have a test tomorrow, Will. I need to sleep.”

“But you always sleep better after.”

“How do you know?” She’s right, of course. I wake up feeling more rested after the nights we do “bed magic” than after the nights we don’t.

“Because I like to lie awake and look at you all night.” Her voice is so matter-of-fact. My breath catches.

“Why would you do that?”

“Because you’re gorgeous.”

I melt with pleasure, grinning to myself and savoring the warmth. My cheeks are flushing a bright red, and I’m glad she can’t see it. I’ll never understand why someone as perfect and beautiful as her would want someone as plain and ugly as me. Every time she says something like that to me, I almost believe it. The bed bounces and squeaks as I roll towards her. With my hand on her back, I pull us close enough for me to kiss her. She wriggles herself into me and burrows her head into my chest, using my breast as a pillow.

I love that she’s small enough to fit right into me, so I can just envelope her with me. She is the goodness inside me, the treasure I contain. She is a butterfly and I am her cocoon. The best part is that she doesn’t leave the cocoon as a beautiful butterfly only once in her lifetime. She bursts from me every morning, full of grace and majesty and loveliness. She brings light and color to the world so that everyone can marvel at nature’s perfection. People watch her, in awe, admiration, respect, and desire. Each night, she returns to the comfort of my embrace, wrapping herself in her Tara-cocoon. At the back of my mind, I am afraid and at the same time expect that one day she won’t come back to me. Maybe she’ll meet another beautiful butterfly out there. But until then I am ever so grateful for the chance to be her blanket, her nest, her cocoon.

“Tara?”

I let out a huff. “What?” I pretend to be annoyed.

“The spell?”

_Darn, she remembered! I guess I’m not going to get a full night’s sleep tonight. This had better be worth it._ “Okay, we can try it.”

“Oh, goodie!” she sounds giddy, like a kid with a new toy. She sits up and bends down to kiss me before she starts to pull off my oversized T-shirt. Though the room is dark, there is enough light coming in through the curtained windows to allow us to see basic outlines of the things in the room. Including each other. Slowly, and with many kisses in many different locations, we undress each other.

When both of us are naked, we kneel on the bed as close to each other as we can get. Each of us is sitting on one of the other’s knees. We kiss. My hands are tangled in her hair, and her hands hold my face. Her knee in my crotch is making me hot and wet. I can tell that mine is doing the same to her. We savor the kiss for as long as possible—that is, until oxygen becomes an issue. Then Willow reaches out and pushes me down onto the bed. Lying over me, she lightly nibbles on my left ear and then kisses down my jaw to my neck.

As much as I’m enjoying what we’re doing—or rather, what she’s doing to me—I’m starting to wonder if there even is a spell, or if she was just trying to arouse my interest—among other things—so I’d let her get what she wanted. So when she pauses in kissing my neck to take a breath, I decide to do something.

“Willow, are we going to do a spell or not?” I venture cautiously.

She sits up between my legs and I can see her teeth shining in the semi-darkness. I know that she is giving me a grin of the most purely smug satisfaction. It’s one of my favorite Willow-expressions. “Oh, you want me to do the spell?” I nod and she utters a word that crackles with power, power that surrounds me and pulls my arms and legs out wide. The power recedes and I’m lying spread-eagled in the middle of the double bed, with Willow sitting between my knees. We stay in those positions for a moment. Then I try to sit up so I can see what spell she did.

That’s when I realize I can’t move because my hands and feet are tied to the bed frame.

Blind terror courses through my body. I open my mouth to scream, but a hand covers it and muffles my cry. When I stop screaming, the hand retracts. I pull my arms and legs in until it feels like they are all going to pop out of the sockets. No matter how hard I pull, it only hurts me. So I panic, kicking and flailing as much as I can. Flopping like a fish, I strain and struggle to free myself, or sit up, or move at all. Rational thought kicks in during a moment’s rest, and I remember a freeing spell. Just as I open my mouth, the hand clamps over it. Immediately I start to struggle again.

I can hear Willow’s voice, but I’m too busy trying to escape to hear what she’s saying. All I can do is flop up and down and pull on my arms and legs. It’s completely ineffective. Suddenly, a word and my arms are free. The ropes between my ankles and the bedposts go slack, and I sit up. I want to go untie my legs, but Willow intercepts me and holds me, her hands on my back press my naked body into hers. I clutch her to me with all my strength and bury my face in her shoulder as she reassures me.

“Shhh. Shh. Tara, baby, it’s okay. Relax, Tara honey.”

Her whispers soothe me, and I feel the tension leaving my body as relief loosens my muscles. In my calmed state, I realize something. “Willow, those ropes, that was the spell?” She nods. “You couldn’t have warned me?”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wanted to try this out and surprise you. I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

“Willow, I’m down with the whole ‘Us trying new things’ idea, but I’m not so sure about this one.”

“Give it a chance Tara. Please? It might be fun.”

“Fun? Being tied to the bed might be fun?” I ask incredulously.

“I bet I can make it fun,” is Willow’s suggestive reply. She kisses me, and gently leans me back until I’m lying down. “I’m going to do the spell again, okay?” Clearly she learned something from her first try because she waits for me to reply.

Sighing, I resign myself to my fate. “Okay.” I clamp my mouth shut and mentally prepare myself. _Don’t scream. Don’t scream. Or pull, don’t do that either. In fact, just don’t move._

Another word and my wrists are tied again. We’re in the exact same position as we were before; me spread out on the bed and Willow sitting between my legs. “Will, I really don’t think I’m gonna like this.”

“Are you sure? I think you’ll be surprised.” As she says that, she trails her fingers up my bare leg from my ankle to my thigh, which tingles expectantly. She traces a lazy half circle around my belly button, and then strokes down my other leg. A prolonged shiver goes through my body, tightening my muscles in excitement. Goosebumps pop up all over me.

Taking pleasure in my reaction, she does it one more time. My eyes are closed in ecstasy while her fingers play all over my body. They touch me everywhere except where I most want them to be. Lightly, they wander around my thighs and explore my abdomen. On my breasts, she draws spirals that circle in to my nipples and make them harden at her touch. Then she spirals to the edge of my breasts again.

I arch my back to her, hardly feeling the ropes that bite into my wrists and ankles. “Willow…” I moan, “Willow, you’re killing me! Please!”

“Hush, Dawn will hear.” My eyes are still closed, but I can hear her self-satisfied smile in her voice. “Anyway, sometimes the anticipation of something is better than the thing itself.”

Easy for her to say, she’s not the one who has to wait. I clamp my mouth shut as hard as I can. She smiles again and lowers herself to my heaving body. Gently, she kisses me, and her lips on mine make everything all right. Then she crawls upwards to where my hands are clenched in fists against the bed-frame. Her knees are right by my armpits and she’s using the headboard to hold herself up while she kisses the knuckles of both my hands. She carefully uncurls my fingers and kisses my open palms, first my right palm, then my left. From my left palm she moves down to my wrist and kisses it above and below the ropes that bind me, then she does the same thing on my right. My eyes are closed in ecstasy as I lie there. From my right wrist she slowly lowers herself to my right elbow and her lips brush the sensitive place on the inside. I inhale with an audible hiss and exhale just as loudly when she does the same thing to my left arm. She sits back on her calves and puts her hands on my shoulders to hold herself when she leans forward to kiss me right on the curve of my left bicep. I gaze at the curved ceiling of her stomach above me as she switches over to my right arm and kisses my bicep and then my shoulder. She plants one last kiss on my left shoulder and then sits up and looks down at me.

Willow pauses, as if considering her next move. I can’t see her face, and I strain my neck forward, trying to catch her expression in the dim light coming in from the windows. Then she does something that she’s never done to me before: she drags her tongue from my collarbone up to my right ear. It’s surprisingly sexy. The noise that comes out of my mouth is also new, something between a whimper and a moan. “I’m sorry baby, was that weird?” She asks, sounding concerned and a little bit confused. “I don’t know where that came from.”

“No, ‘twas good.” Even real words come out of my mouth sounding like moans.

“Okay, good.” Willow lavishes my entire body with attention, tickling and caressing me with soft red hair while her lips work their magic on my sternum, breasts, ribs, stomach, thighs, knees, and toes. Shivers clatter up and down my goosebumped body, yet below my skin, heat builds like lava rising from the earth’s core.

She takes her time, knowing that I can’t do anything to make her hurry up. My skin, now damp with sweat, tingles and buzzes electrically. I’m grateful to the ropes: somehow they—or the position they hold me in—have heightened my senses so that everything Willow does to me is sexier and more exciting.

Finally— _finally_ —she moves her head to where the skin is as tight as a drum and the flesh throbs with pulsing desire. Eagerly, she laps at me: she is a kitten and I am her bowl of milk. My back arches sharply, my whole body strains at the ropes, thrusting my hips up at her. She goes deeper and harder, and now I am the shore and she is the ocean at high tide, during a storm.

Urgency builds, and I buck and thrust. The sharp pains that lance down my arms and legs add to the frenzy, the excitement, and to the beautiful feeling of total surrender. This is the part I like best. The part where all of me—everything I am—becomes hers. My mind, my heart, my body, my pleasure, and my pain, they all belong to her.

I hit the climax, and after a few moments she is finished with me. Panting and gasping, I watch as her face rises into my field of vision. She grins smugly, and then lets herself collapse on top of me. Unable to move my arms and legs, I nuzzle her cheek so she knows I love her.

“Now let me do you.” I say.

“How?” She frowns cutely, trying to imagine a solution.

“Kneel above my head.”

Her face lights up and she gets into position above me. Reaching up with my head, I taste her. Mmmm, just like strawberries.  
Her gasps and moans and pleasure sounds are all I can hear until she clamps her thighs over my ears. Her hands claw at my arms until they too, find the bed frame and clutch it desperately.

After I finish, she lies on top of me and holds me tight. This time, she is my blanket—more for comfort than warmth, like a child’s security blanket. She curls up on my tightly stretched frame. We remain like that until her weight—though slight—pulls on the ropes so they are more than slightly uncomfortable. I whisper a word of magic, and am slightly concerned when it does nothing. It’s possible that I’m just too tired, or maybe something in the spell means only the one who used it can end it.

“Willow?” I whisper

“Hm?” She sounds sleepy, and I feel bad disturbing her and ruining the moment.

“The ropes. They’re getting a little tight…”

“Oh!” She rolls off of me and sits up. With a quick incantation she releases me from my bonds. I embrace her, pulling her down on top of me again, and we sink into the mattress together. After a while, I notice that my wrists feel funny. The feeling intensifies, and I gently nudge Willow off of me so I can sit up. I rub my wrists in confused pain, brain too fuzzy to make sense of the hurt. She sits up too.

“Mmm? Tara? What’s wrong?” she sounds groggy.

I don’t answer, rubbing my wrists with my jaw clenched in an effort to keep the pain at bay. I can feel that my wrists are raw, and there’s some kind of ooze. Idly, I wonder if it’s blood. Willow senses my movement and takes my hand. Her fingers lightly trace the oozing, deep impressions left by the ropes on my wrists, and it seems to wake her up.

“Maybe I should have gone a little easier on you,” she admits sheepishly, trying to sound light and failing to disguise the worry in her voice.

“No, it was good.” I reassure her. My argument deflates quickly when she continues to stroke my wrist and I hiss sharply in pain.

Willow murmurs a spell and a sickly-looking light appears, hovering just above my hands. “Oh, baby, you’re hurt.” She says, wincing at the bright red rope burns on my wrists that are oozing a clear fluid. The light also illuminates the scratches she left on my arms and my raw ankles before it flickers and dies. She caresses my wrists and ankles where the rope burned them. “That light just drained my powers. I’m so sorry, but I don’t have enough in me to do even a small healing spell.” She is apologetic, but unsurprised. Neither of us can ever do any magic after a night of “bed magic”—we discovered that months ago.

“It’s ok.” I say, and then flinch when she tries to assess the burns by feel.

“I’m sure we have some burn ointment in the medicine cabinet. Hold on a minute.” She gets up and leaves me sitting with my knees drawn in to my chest, cradling my wrists in the space between. In an instant she returns from the bathroom with a tube of cream. When she gets to the bed, she pauses to turn on the lamp on he bedside table. Squirting some of the cream onto her fingertips, she gently holds my hand in hers and rubs the salve into my wrist.

As she rubs my burned wrists and ankles with the soothing ointment, I gaze in wonder at this girl who can love me so fiercely and passionately one moment, and care for me with such kindness and tenderness the next. This Willow who wants me from the hair on my head to the toes on my feet, who laughs at my jokes, who protects me from harm, and who always finds me when I’m lost.

I can feel tears trickling down my face, and despite my efforts, I can’t prevent a few sniffles and deep, heaving breaths from escaping. Willow—focusing intently on putting the ointment on my wrists—hears me, looks up at my face, and strokes my cheek with a finger. There is concern in her eyes.

“Tara? What’s wrong baby?”

I pull her close to me and hold her tight. “Never leave me.” I whisper into her hair before releasing her.

She gives me that special, Willow smile again and fluidly sinks down onto the pillows, dragging me down with her. We lie, facing each other, close enough to kiss if we stretch and far enough to breathe and whisper “I love you” without blowing into each other’s faces. We do both before we finally settle down to sleep. She combs her fingers languidly through my hair, lulling me into my dreams.

“Willow?” I whisper, suddenly remembering my test tomorrow. “What is my professor going to say when he sees the scratches and rope burns tomorrow?”

She giggles. “He’ll ask if you got kidnapped.”

I chuckle at her answer. “What should I tell him?”

“The truth.”

“The truth?”

“Yup. That you got kidnapped by your kitten, but it’s ok now because your girlfriend saved you.”

I smile and stroke her silky hair. “You always do.”


End file.
